crumpled at her feet.
“Do I address a certain Harsan, priest of Thumis of the Second Circle?” She laughed, low in her throat, as he well remembered her. “You stare at me as if I’d grown four arms, grey skin, and a sword, like the Enemy of Man, the Ssu!”
“I had thought to meet a noble lady from Tumissa.” It grew easier as he spoke. “But all I see is someone from Bey Sii. The little brown egg has hatched out into a many-hued Kheshchal-bircV.'
“Do you like the transformation?” She slipped to her feet and turned before him, displaying a length of graceful calf through the clever slashes of her skirt.
“Indeed.” He let himself admire her openly and was surprised to see that his fingers appeared quite steady as he poured himself a goblet of wine. “I did not hear-I thought of you-”
“La, you thought I would not keep my sworn oath? To break a promise is ignoble, and to deceive a priest is to offend the Gods! Would you have had me anger your mighty Thumis?”
He laughed but made no reply. More important matters came to mind.
“You are married?” he asked.
“Oh, no, not yet… or perhaps I should say that I am as much married now as I shall ever be. Our clan-elders have set our nuptials for the third month hence, Halir, when all the harvests are done. My noble clan-cousin is a busy man and will be married only after all the crops are in, the accounts made, and tithes and taxes paid-” She was still smiling, but her lips trembled. “I am much valued, Harsan. Lord Retlan is a kindly and important person. He gives me everything-” Her voice broke a little. “I am valued, valued as a Kheshchal-bird is valued, or talking Kuni- bird… He dresses me and sees that his slaves make me beautiful. He commands me to eat and become sleek. And he has given me over to his third wife, the Lady Giu, for training in the arts of etiquette, for he is popular at the governor’s court-” Her voice broke entirely, and she took a step towards him.
Harsan did what seemed to be expected and took her in his arms. He comforted her as he had done upon the Sakbe road, held her, and touched her as he knew she wished to be touched. Soon the black Tsunu-pasle upon her eyelids was all tear-washed and kissed away, and the designs upon her breasts were rubbed and blurred beyond repair.
The sun had sunk below the horizon when they arose, but its vermilion and magenta banners still filled the western sky. Lady Eyil stood and stretched before him, ruddy light gleaming off the supple lines of breast and buttock and thigh. She bent to pick up her skirt from the floor, but she twisted away when Harsan would have reached for her.
“Oh, no, my love, not again! My dear Lord Retlan hiVriyen cares little where I go and whom I see, as long as I do not dishonour him by public display. But if I am late for supper the Lady Giu will purse her vinegary lips and vent her bile upon me. No. Wait for my message. I will send to you again within the six-day. Though you may forget me for love of your wise, cold God, yet I am not so fickle as to abandon you!”
That night the cool darkness of the underground antechamber seemed lonelier and more oppressive than ever.
Thereafter they met more and more frequently. Always Eyil arranged the place and the time, usually at the clanhouse of the People of the High Pillar, occasionally at the establishment of one of the other winemakers’ clans, and once even at a caravanserai in the Quarter of Foreign Persons. Each time they ate and drank, made love together, and then parted.
At first Harsan was apprehensive of her clan’s possible surveillance and displeasure, but she quickly disabused him of this.
“Oh, la, Harsan! My noble fiance desires only that I become a suitable companion for him at the governor’s feasts. Lord Retlan is a mild man, perhaps thrice my age, going bald and wrinkled. He is too old-and dried up-to beget more children. His first and second wives have borne him sons, and the oldest of these is already an officer in the Legion of Kaikama-” She broke off and gave him an sidewise look before continuing. “The Lady Giu attends to his personal needs. He has even offered to buy me a slave lover and a plentiful supply of Lisutl-root to keep me content. You see, my love, I am being groomed as a pet Renyu is groomed-all for show! Were it not for my clan- elders’ greed for ties with our wealthier brethren here in Bey Sii, I would now be safe at home in Tumissa.”
“And more than likely betrothed to some provincial popinjay!” Harsan drew a teasing finger along the silky thigh pressed so pleasantly against his own. “Were you in Tumissa, you would never have met me on the road.”
“You have no faith in the Weaver of Skeins!” She ruffled his hair. “Let me summon my barber-slave and have him rid you of that Do Chakan coiffure, my love. It is time you joined the world of greater Tsolyanu! There are feasts and fetes and festivals in the harvest season, and I can take you with me, so long as Lord Retlan does not care to go himself. It’s all the fashion now for noble women to be attended by at least one suitor to sing her praises-nowadays even matrons too old to waddle appear with a troupe of swains to fawn upon them. Oh, please let me show you these things, Harsan!”
He laughed and protested. In truth, he did not much like the idea of appearing at functions with her as her adoring gallant. In the end, however, he gave in and allowed the temple barber (and not her slave!) to shear off his forebraids and trim his locks to a more fashionable length. When the old man muttered something about it being more proper for a priest of Thumis to get his head shaved, rather than to have his hair done like a dandified noble, Harsan silenced him with a sharp word-and then added a silver Hlash as an apology. It disturbed him, nevertheless. At times he felt rather like a huge, dumb Chlen- beast, led by its halter willy-nilly wherever its master willed. Yet the Lady Eyil was here, she was beautiful, and she was full of Iovq for him.
Chapter Eleven
The month of Firasul came to bestride the land, ravaging all with its heat and dust and baking winds. During the day the wealthy retreated to suites of underground apartments below their clanhouses; the nights were spent amidst the greenery of their lofty roof-gardens. The poor sweltered, cursed, sweated-and laboured-as the poor have always done in all times and places everywhere since the Age of the Immortal Gods.
Pardan at last took the place of Firasul, and all the world heaved a sigh of relief at the passing of yet another summer. The grain now stood tall in the fields, and men spoke of crops, harvests, prices, rates, and the autumn festivals of the month of Halir to come.
The Lady Eyil had said truly. In the intricate society of the capital none thought it strange to see a pretty daughter of a good middle class clan (or, to be charitable, a clan of the lower aristocracy) in the company of a grey-robed priest of Thumis. The mighty lords of the city went about with retinues of cronies, courtesans, slaves, and hangers-on. Their wives and concubines likewise surrounded themselves with suitors: foppish courtiers, soldiers pricked out in fancy armour, and delicately mannered bravos whose hands were quicker to the wine-cup than to the sword. Indeed, the richest dowagers competed with one another for variety: one must have a warrior, a poet, a musician, an artist, a tall youth, a short one, a jolly one, a pensive one-and onward unto the limits of one’s purse! Those who favoured the Lords of Change sought oddities, nonhumans, misfits, and sports. The most extreme of these were the devotees of Lady Dlamelish and her Cohort Hrihayal, who delighted in escorts of unclad girls and boys, great-thewed gladiators from the Hirilakte Arena (who might just as well have been nude for all that their brief kilts concealed), dwarves, giants, and a host of other aberrations.
All during Firasul and the first days of Pardan the Lord Retlan hiVriyen remained closeted with his field- stewards and accountants, so the Lady Eyil said. She thus took Harsan with her to the Hirilakte Arena and to the salons of certain nobles famous for their feasts and ever-changing rounds of fashionable partying. The name of Retlan hiVriyen seemed to get her into almost any clanhouse or mansion she chose.
The pageantry and colour of the Arena were exciting, but Harsan disliked the noise, the heat, and the stink of the crowd. He took no pleasure, moreover, in watching the endless spilling of blood, for, unlike some others of the twenty Tsolyani deities, Lord Thumis accepted only the sacrifice of flowers, fruit, and incense.
The diversions of the noble households, on the other hand, were very much to Harsan’s taste. There were mimes and dances, presented by slave performers or by various lower clans specialising in these things, and there were also recitals of poetry and music. He became almost a connoisseur of the Tenturen, the huge twelve-stringed instrument favoured in centra! Tsolyanu. Almost a man-height in length, the Tenturen had two resonance chambers
